


The Heart of the Matter

by Joules Mer (joulesmer)



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Christopher Pike Lives, M/M, Major Illness, Post-Star Trek: Into Darkness, Recovery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-03
Updated: 2020-05-29
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:54:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 14,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23989219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/joulesmer/pseuds/Joules%20Mer
Summary: Seventeen.  There were seventeen scuffs on the floor of his ‘fleet issue housing, just in the two square meters that Leonard could clearly see.  He’d counted them.  Twice.  It wasn’t hard when you were so up close and personal with the deck plating.
Relationships: James T. Kirk/Leonard "Bones" McCoy
Comments: 150
Kudos: 283





	1. Chapter 1

Seventeen. There were seventeen scuffs on the floor of his ‘fleet issue housing, just in the two square meters that Leonard could clearly see. He’d counted them. Twice. It wasn’t hard when you were so up close and personal with the deck plating.

For all that he ragged Jim about the younger man’s unhealthy diet Leonard figured it was a cosmic joke that he was the one drooling on the floor, feeling like there was a Klingon sitting on his chest.

A wave of nausea made him retch, eyes stinging and tearing-up as he willed himself not to vomit. It was so goddamn stupid too...

Shortness of breath— Hell, he’d had trouble catching his breath since peeling open that body bag two months ago.

Nausea— it had taken a while to get eating normally again after Jim’s coma. A few too many stims, too much stress, and snatches of hospital food at odd hours had left his stomach a little fiddly even after he’d finally sprung Jim from ‘Fleet Medical.

Sweating— everyone was sweating these days. Sweating in front of boards of inquiry. Sweating as they skirted the destroyed waterfront. Sweating as they went hiking up and down the hills of San Francisco where the transport network was still disrupted.

By the time he’d actually felt chest pain that was enough to make him take notice it was accompanied by a wave of dizziness that had him fainting in his own front hallway, comm skittering somewhere out of reach in the darkness at the edge of his vision.

It took Leonard a moment to realize that what he’d taken for a ringing in his ears was actually the door chime. Jim never used to chime, back at the academy. To Jim, a closed door was merely a suggestion; particularly when that closed door was Leonard’s. _Especially_ when it was Leonard’s.

He tried to make his mouth form the words, _Come in_ , but something between a gasp and a whine escaped his lips instead. Nothing the computer could pick up.

The door chimed again, then again before the last note had fully died away. They were supposed to be going for a drink, just the two of them, to catch up after a hectic couple of weeks where Jim had returned to full duty. _Come on, Jim_ A longer pause, then a chime that sounded almost forlorn. A sob rose in Leonard’s throat, threatening to choke him at the thought that this was it; this was how he was going to go. Alone. In rather utilitarian officers’ housing. His vision greyed further at the edges, swallowing-up the marks he’d dubbed numbers five, eleven, and fourteen through seventeen.

It was a shock when a burst of brighter light flooded in from the hallway, followed by a pair of well-worn black boots that he’d recognize anywhere, even if this particular perspective was a new one.

“Bones!”

The world lurched as Leonard was rolled over onto his back and _dammit, finally_ Jim was there with his too-blue eyes and face pinched with worry. “Bones?” A calloused palm cupped the side of his face and Leonard could barely manage the effort it took to get his eyes focused on Jim’s. He tried to say something, but only managed a gurgling noise more reminiscent of sleep apnea than speech.

If anything, it seemed to spur the kid into motion as there was suddenly a comm in Jim’s hand and he was talking into it too loudly: panicky words about _medical_ and _emergency_ and _beam_ and then the comm snapped shut and there was a hand in Leonard’s hair and words all strung together in a rush that hurt his brain to try and parse so he didn’t bother, but just let wash over him, _”Bonesit’sokayI’vegotyouBonesPleaseBonesHoldonBones.”_

The words cut off with the tingle of a transporter and then there were bright lights that stung and he made eye contact with Jim just as the kid said, “Bones!” in a tone that broke partway through and then the younger man jerked backwards and out of sight as if tugged away. 

Some painfully young doctor he didn’t recognize loomed over Leonard and he had to resist the urge to flinch. The words _coronary thrombosis_ and _myocardial infarction_ blossomed in the air around him and no shit, Sherlock, he didn’t need some infant med student to tell him that. 

With a supreme amount of effort Leonard managed to flop his head to one side and there was _Jim_ , still a little skinny after the coma, pale and hugging his arms tightly around himself in concern. He tried to make his lips work— to say something because the kid looked so damned upset— but the effort ended when a hypo pressed to his neck brought sudden darkness.

********************

Things got a little hazy after that. Leonard surfaced some amount of time later to murmured voices and something about viral assays and myocarditis and _thank fuck_ it sounded like that juvenile hack had been replaced by Philip Boyce. He must have been frowning, because calloused fingertips brushed over his forehead as if smoothing away lines of tension and there was a brief scent of familiar cologne before the darkness claimed him again.

********************

“Bones?”

“Bones?”

“Hey, Bones?”

********************

Leonard’s eyes opened to the weak sunlight of late afternoon and a tightness in his joints that suggested he’d been in one position for a while. Blinking away the gritty feeling in his eyelids let the world become more clear, and memory started to return as well. He was in a hospital room; ‘fleet medical, judging by the familiar view. And something bad had happened. _Very bad_.

The monitor gave an audible _blip_ as his heart rate spiked at the sudden memory of collapsing in his apartment, the sensation of a vice closing around his chest and the knowledge that he was actively _dying_ with only an expanse of shitty durasteel flooring for company. 

Until Jim had come. And refused to go away. And presumably overridden the door locks to see what had happened.

Speaking of Jim— Leonard tentatively raised his head from the pillow to find he wasn’t alone. 

Jim was folded into a chair beside the bed, mouth open as the younger man snored lightly; that little _snick_ on the tail-end of an inhale that only accompanied deep exhaustion. Something fond fluttered in Leonard’s chest and he vaguely wondered what had happened. His limbs felt leaden and Jim was too far away to reach easily; not to mention that exhaustion was pressing down like an almost physical force. He was just so _tired_...


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _I was blown away by the quick warm response to the first chapter— thank you all so much! I can’t keep you waiting after that..._  
>  **********************************************************************

“Leonard?” A rustle, the sensation of someone checking an intravenous port. “Leonard, can you wake up for me?”

“Bones?”

_That_ was the voice that had Leonard blinking awake again. Philip Boyce was standing over him, but hovering behind the doctor was— “Jim.” 

The name came out as a horrible croak, but it brought a wide smile to brighten up the kid’s face. Jim rocked forward onto the balls of his feet as he replied, “Hey, Bones.”

“Wh’appened?” 

The question was addressed to the room in general and it was Boyce who answered, “It was a virus, xeno origin, damaged your heart enough that you developed a clot from the poor circulation—” the doctor waved a hand in the air to indicate they both knew what happened from that. “Kirk found you just in time, and I really do mean _just_. We managed to salvage your own muscle tissue rather than attempt a transplant, but you’re going to need extensive cardiac rehab.”

“It’ll be okay, Bones,” there was a defiant look to Jim’s face, as if daring Boyce to contradict him, “the Enterprise is going to need another nine months of repairs before we can relaunch. You have plenty of time.”

“Jim—” Whatever Leonard wanted to say was cut off by a cough; it sent a stab of pain through the center of his chest that echoed in his forehead. Boyce moved quickly, shifting the head of the bed so Leonard could sit up as a second cough wracked his frame.

“Easy, Len. Just breathe.”

Breathe. Right. As if his mouth and throat weren’t as dry as the Sahara. A ragged breath was all he managed before coughing again, eyes closing tightly against the pain. Boyce’s arm came up around his chest, giving Leonard something to brace against as he coughed before finally managing to catch his breath. Something plastic bumped against his lips and when he opened his mouth a straw brought a sip of cool water and a wave of pure relief.

“That’s it.” Once he managed another sip, the straw was withdrawn and Boyce helped him sit more comfortably before brushing sweaty hair back from his forehead. It would be an overly-familiar gesture for most people, but Leonard knew Boyce was an old-fashioned doctor; one who used his hands as much as a med scanner.

Blinking to clear his vision revealed Jim still hovering over Boyce’s shoulder, expression significantly dimmed. In fact, Jim looked downright worried, which wasn’t a good look on him. Attempting to muster a smile on his own face felt more like a sickly grin; from Jim’s reaction he wasn’t being very reassuring.

One last check of the monitors and Boyce kindly stepped aside, making room close to the bed. Leonard’s gaze slithered down in surprise as Jim reached out and impulsively took his right hand, thumb running over lax knuckles then gripping tightly as the younger man asked, “How are you feeling, Bones?”

“I—” How _was_ he feeling? Leonard had to take a moment to consider it for himself; Boyce’s explanation was a lot to take in, as was Jim’s oddly insistent assertion about the Enterprise’s relaunch schedule. It made him suspect he’d missed a lot. Sensing that the younger man was still worried, he hastened to respond, “Tired, a little achy,” Leonard’s voice still sounded awful to his own ears, even as he said, “but not too bad.” A lie, perhaps, but told with good intent.

“Exhaustion is expected,” Boyce’s tone was reassuring; the same he’d used when listed as Jim’s attending at ‘fleet medical. The older man set down a padd that probably contained Leonard’s chart. “More sleep is the best thing for you today. I’ll let Jim stay until you drift off again, but then he needs to go get some rest himself.” There was something of an order in the doctor’s tone and in response to Leonard’s raised eyebrow he clarified, “It’s been three days, Len, almost four. We kept you under for the worst of the initial regen and repair.”

A glance back at Jim and Leonard realized that, sure enough, the younger man was sporting pronounced and untidy stubble, as well as deep bags under his eyes. Four days— being out for that long was serious. A little niggle of worry about what Boyce had meant by _extensive cardiac rehab_ prickled the back of his neck, but, damn, he was tired. So tired.

As his eyelids became too heavy to keep open, Leonard was dimly aware of Jim still holding his hand.

********************

Surfacing the next time was easier. The hospital had that particular hush that accompanied nighttime, and sure enough when Leonard blinked at the chrono the numbers swam into focus to reveal it was 0335.

His throat felt marginally better this time as well, and when he twisted to look around the room he was surprised to find he wasn’t alone. The chair from before was pushed off to one side, but Jim was sprawled out on a cot Boyce must have authorized. The soft light from the nursing console caught the sweep of Jim’s eyelashes against his cheek and Leonard’s breath hitched in his throat for a moment, because the younger man was _alive_ and right there with him. Leonard’s fingers suddenly itched to reach out and touch, but Jim was too far away. Instead, he softly muttered, “Thought you’d have had enough of hospitals by now kid.”

Not softly enough. Jim’s eyes snapped open and he asked, “Bones?”

“Yeah, Jim.” An apology seemed in order, seeing as it was the middle of the night. “Sorry to wake you.”

Jim sat up quickly, blanket slipping onto the floor as he swung his legs off the cot and leaned over the side of the bed. The younger man’s features were indistinct in the low light, but Leonard sure as Hell noticed when Jim took his hand again. His fingers gave an involuntary twitch of surprise, as if they might pull back on their own accord.

Jim didn’t seem to notice; he only crowded closer with that particularly Jim-like lack of respect for personal space that Leonard was well acquainted with after years of friendship. The younger man seemed to search what he could see of Leonard’s face for a moment, then exhaled in a gust and admitted, “You scared the shit out of me, Bones.”

The accusation was such a surprise because, well, pot: meet kettle. Leonard felt something lurch in his gut at recent memory and he couldn’t suppress the urge to retort, “Now you know how it feels.”

“Bones,” Jim flinched like he’d been slapped, fingers tightening convulsively as he blurted out, “I thought you were going to die!”

How the kid could be both the youngest captain in the ‘fleet and so obtuse at times was beyond him. Huffing, because flat on his back was a Hell of a way to have this conversation, Leonard shot back, “Jim, you _did_ die.” There wasn’t any venom in his tone, if anything he just sounded more tired, but it was something of an accusation nonetheless.

Jim seemed to deflate, “Can we start over?” At the slightly guarded nod Leonard offered in return, he said, “I’m glad you’re okay.” A breath, and then, “I was worried. Really, really worried. When I found you—” he trailed off in a way that suggested the event was still a little too fresh.

Swallowing down the memory of seventeen scuffs on the floor for company, Leonard forced words past the lump in his throat. “You saved my life, Jim. If you hadn’t come looking—”

“You saved mine.” Darker patches that were probably Jim’s eyebrows seemed to draw together into an apologetic frown. “I thanked Spock when I woke up, but, Bones, I know it was you and I was a bit of an asshole not to thank you right away too.”

It was so like them: to be having this conversation in the dark hours of the early morning. When their faces were little more than smudges of grey and voices hushed.

Jim huffed a breath that might have been self-deprecating as he added, “Okay, more than a bit. I’m sorry.”

His momma had always raised him to take a genuine apology gracefully. The response was almost instinctual, “Thank you,” Leonard wasn’t used to this, not from Jim who was usually so damned cocky, “I appreciate it.” A hitch of breath caught his ear that sounded like surprise so he insisted, “Really, I do.”

The hand clutching his own gave a little squeeze. When he returned the gesture Jim’s posture shifted, as if the young man palpably relaxed. A slow breath turned into a barely suppressed yawn and it was enough to make Jim move, releasing his hand and backing up to sit on the edge of the cot, turning into an even more vague silhouette.

“I’d better let you get back to sleep; Boyce’ll kick me out if he thinks I’m keeping you awake.”

Leonard didn’t bother trying to deny it; he’d seen first-hand how protective the other doctor could be towards his patients. Jim took the silence as acquiescence and stretched back out on the cot with a rustle of blankets.

There was probably more to be said, but Leonard didn’t know where to start. In the dark, the slow in-out of Jim’s breathing whispered in the room, lulling them both to sleep.

********************

An initial cardiac stress-test the next morning had looked good, relatively speaking. Good in that his heart had stood up to a brief period of brisk walking on a treadmill. Relative in that such little exertion had left Leonard pouring sweat and feeling like he couldn’t get enough air into his lungs. There was something disconcerting for a grown man to see his own chest fluttering like a butterfly’s wings. Fragile. Ineffectual.

Flat on his back, alone, Leonard vaguely wished he could see his own chart. His chest still felt tight, but he wasn’t sure if it was lingering from the stress test or psychosomatic. Before he could get himself too worked up, the door opened and Boyce swept into the room in a pristine white coat. 

“It’s looking good, Len.” The older man didn’t quite offer the chart, but his smile was reassuring as he said, “We can start you on outpatient cardiac rehab.”

“Can I go home?”

It was another voice that answered, “Your chariot awaits.” Leonard looked up to find Jim leaning around the door frame, grinning as he waved a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. “Get out of those pyjamas and I’ll take you home.”

“Really?”

“There are some conditions,” Boyce made sure he had both men’s attention, “Monitoring bracelet, lots of rest, we’ll start with daily therapy, and Jim’s your roommate for the foreseeable future.”

Gaze flitting to the captain, Leonard frowned, “Don’t you need to—”

“I’m on stand-down.”

Jim had only _just_ made it back on active duty; he’d spent the last weeks bitching about how he was going crazy with nothing to do. How he hated to feel useless; how he _needed_ to help with the clean-up efforts and getting the Enterprise rebuilt. “Jim, you don’t have to—”

“I volunteered.” Jim took a step into the room, tossing the sweats so they landed on Leonard’s chest. “I want to. Now get dressed so we can get out of here.”

Self-interest won, because Leonard didn’t want to spend any longer in the hospital than was strictly necessary. Picking up the garments, he growled good-naturedly, “Why don’t you shut the door to the hallway and I’ll do just that.”

“I dunno, Bones.” Jim’s eyebrows wagged suggestively, “The nurses might appreciate a peep show.”

Boyce just rolled his eyes and turned to a console to start the discharge paperwork.

********************

Slowly following Jim down the hallway of the medical officers’ apartment complex, Leonard tugged his sleeve down to cover the sleek monitoring bracelet on his wrist. Jim opened the door with a flourish and waved Leonard through the entryway, “Home sweet home: Casa de la Bones.”

“For someone who was treasurer of the Xenolinguistics Club you’re butchering a couple languages there, Jim.”

The younger man just laughed, setting a bag of something by the entrance to the kitchenette and then making his way into the living room as he said, “Boyce really read me the riot act about making sure you rested so I downloaded about a dozen of those grisly true crime documentaries you like so much. You want to start on the sofa or in your bedroom?”

“I— ” Leonard glanced down to find the scuffs on the floor looked so much smaller when he was standing. A sudden memory of being _right there_ as the world tilted alarmingly and a vice-like grip settled on his chest made him falter.

“Bones?”

Leonard’s heart accelerated and the monitoring bracelet gave a little _blip_ that had Jim quickly moving to his side. Closing his eyes against the memory, he managed to get out, “I can’t—”

“Okay,” Jim’s hands gripped his biceps, then briskly rubbed Leonard’s upper arms, “It’s okay. Let’s go. I’ll have someone pick up your stuff. Come on.” Moving quickly, Jim steered them both out of the apartment and into the hallway. A moment, and then the younger man’s arms came up and pulled him into a tight hug.

Jim was wearing a well-worn leather jacket that carried the faint scent of aftershave and spilt whisky, one he remembered well from nights out. Leonard pressed his face into the firm line of the other man’s shoulder and inhaled deeply. It was calming; surprisingly so. He took another slow breath and felt his heart rate coming back under control. Jim was murmuring something he couldn’t quite follow, but the shape of the words was comforting. Eventually, the monitoring bracelet gave a little _ping_ of all-clear and Jim gently pulled back to look over Leonard’s face.

Whatever the younger man saw made him quirk a slightly fragile smile, then whisper a soft, “Come on, let’s go.” 

Still feeling distinctly off-balance, Leonard let himself be arranged under Jim’s arm even as he asked, “We’re going to your place?” Jim may be a captain, but he only kept a studio apartment in the city. “I can’t kick you out of your own bed, Jim. I—” A little noise of negation high in the younger man’s throat made him pause.

A beat of silence, and then, “I’ve been spending time at Pike’s.” Jim’s cheeks pinked as if that was something to be embarrassed about. “He said the spare room is there anytime I’m having trouble sleeping. I doubt this is quite what he had in mind, but he’s still on reduced duty and bored out of his mind. Besides, he likes you.”

Leonard focused on the one part of that sentence that caught his attention,“You haven’t been sleeping?”

Jim just gave a small smile that was a little tight around the edges. Instead of responding directly, he started guiding them down the hallway as he said, “You know Boyce was his CMO? On the USS Yorktown?”

Leonard hadn’t, although most ‘fleet officers of similar age and rank knew each other to some degree.

Sensing the answer, Jim continued, “I get the sense Boyce’s been doing a lot of house calls. Probably be easier for him to have you there as well. He kind of let on he’d be stopping by to check on you directly, even with the bracelet.”

Huh. While Leonard considered that, Jim used his comm to hail a short-range aerial flitter. Sensing from experience that Leonard wasn’t a fan of the mode of travel, Jim offered a reassuring arm around the shoulders while politely ignoring another _blip_ from the bracelet as they set off into the sky.

It was, at least, a short flight— just twenty-five kilometers down the coast and they set down on a narrow residential street on a bluff over the ocean. No one answered when they rang the bell, but then the door opened anyway with Jim’s thumbprint.

“We can’t just let ourselves—”

“Relax, Bones.” And dammit, that was the smile that had got them into so much trouble over the years. “It’s fine.”

And _that_ was how Leonard found himself ushered into an airy living room, with a view through to a dining room overlooking the ocean. The windows were floor to ceiling, tinted slightly against the afternoon sunlight. It was a beautiful home; peaceful. Old-fashioned, even, in a way that Leonard couldn’t help but respect. 

A hand on his shoulder guided Leonard to stretch out on a sofa, and damn it was comfortable, not to mention over six feet long. Another attempt at objection, even with a plaintive note injected into the word _Jim_ , was merely waved aside as a throw blanket was tugged over his legs and the younger man fiddled with a control console until a screen descended from the ceiling and began playing, _Medical Mysteries Volume Five: A Pox on Andoria_. By the time Jim disappeared and returned eating a bag of chips that had presumably come out of Pike’s kitchen, Leonard started contemplating how he’d use his one phone call when the admiral had them booked for breaking and entering.

Leonard hadn’t realized he’d dozed off until a click from the front door was followed by a surprised, “Jim?” His eyes snapped open and he blinked in the light to find Pike cocking his head to one side as he looked down and added, “And McCoy?”

He’d never seen the admiral in civvies quite like this: well-worn jeans and a bulky cable-knit sweater. The weather was mild, but the older man probably chilled easily given the amount of weight he’d lost during his recovery. Mouth suddenly dry in embarrassment, Leonard’s apology caught in his throat.

“Chris,” Jim stood quickly, scrubbing a hand through his short blond hair. That was different, too. It hadn’t quite been first-names in both directions before, no matter how fondly Jim came to say, _sir_. Not even when the admiral was recovering after the Narada, or when Jim was well enough after his own coma to be wheeled down a floor in SFM to visit where the older man spent a month having cardiothoracic reconstruction. “Sorry to just barge in, but Bones was discharged today and we needed a change of scenery.”

Leonard didn’t miss how Pike spared a moment to pass a careful eye over Jim before turning his attention back to the sofa. 

A fan of wrinkles crinkled at the corners of the older man’s eyes as he smiled and softly said, “It’s good to see you, Leonard. I heard it was a close call.”

Being Pike’s singular focus of attention was a little much, and Leonard found his mouth dissembling before he could think about it. “I guess I must’ve heard close calls were the fashionable thing these days.”

Morbid humor to be sure, but Pike seemed to understand as he shook his head in a manner that appeared fond before turning his attention back to Jim and asking, “Have you eaten?” 

The thought of food was enough that Leonard’s stomach answered the question directly— grumbling to complain that he hadn’t offered it anything since a bowl of nutritionally-complete hospital oatmeal that morning. 

Pike snorted, then raised a pointed eyebrow at Jim, “I’ll take that as a no, and a sign that you can make something for all of us while I go rinse the sand off my feet.” 

Chastened, Jim beat a hasty retreat before Pike could say anything else; the admiral merely offered Leonard a wry smile before heading down a hallway and out of sight. 

Alone, Leonard tugged the throw blanket further up his chest, as if mustering his strength against the world. How the Hell was this his life? Flat on his back on a near-stranger’s couch after nearly dying of a coronary at thirty-two. Ignoring the monitoring bracelet, he pressed two fingers into his neck until confronted by the reassuring throb of a healthy resting heartbeat. Faster than before, but still within the normal range. He counted again just to be sure. On the cusp of checking one more time, Leonard forced himself to lower his hand.

He was going fucking crazy.

Couldn’t even stand in his own apartment.

Couldn’t trust that his heart wasn’t about to pack it in, no matter what Boyce said. Smoothing his hands over the blanket brought some grounding. The fabric was soft— Earth cotton shot through with Rigellian silk, judging by the shimmer. Trying to focus on things that were _real_ , a faint clattering from the kitchen suggested Jim was taking his assignment seriously.

Leonard just let himself drift for a while, shocked at how tired he felt after the events of the morning; embarrassed that he’d found himself imposing where he wasn’t sure of his welcome.

Some indeterminate amount of time later the hallway floor creaked and Pike appeared again: barefoot, in another pair of equally well-worn jeans and hair damp from the shower.

“Sir, I—” He started to struggle to sit up, only for Pike to make a motion to stay down as the older man dropped into a comfortable looking armchair opposite the couch.

“Leonard, you’ve seen me drooling all over myself after surgery. If you can’t be candid after that, we’re going to have a problem.”

“We try not to mention it.” Leonard quirked an eyebrow, “Professional courtesy and all.”

“Then I guess you’d better call me Chris.” The older man smiled, kindly, “Seeing as you’re going to be staying in my guest room for the foreseeable future.”

“About that— Chris,” His tongue stuttered over the first name for a fraction of a second, “I—”

The apology didn’t get a chance to cross his lips before the older man waved it aside and asserted, “You got steamrolled by Kirk, probably not for the first _or_ last time. It’s okay; there’s plenty of room and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t be glad of some company.” He waved a hand towards the side of the house opposite from where he’d vanished earlier to shower and change. “There’s a guest bedroom and an extra office with a Murphy bed.”

Further conversation was forestalled by Jim leaning into the front room and announcing, “Lunch’s ready.” He vanished again, in a way that suggested they were supposed to join him at the dining area. The kid always acted like his friends should be able to read his mind.

Leonard’s head swam a little when he first got to his feet, but after a few seconds he was able to follow the other man across the house. 

Pike raised his eyebrows when he saw what was on the table, unable to quite mask his surprise. “You cook like that and I won’t let you leave.”

The thing was: Jim could _cook_. Exactly where he’d picked up his skills was a mystery; Leonard had made some off-hand comment the first time the younger man wandered out of his too-small academy kitchenette with a roast chicken. At the time, Jim’s jaw had tightened almost imperceptibly and he’d avoided the question in a manner that suggested the skill might not have its roots in some teenage odd job as a short-order cook. 

The comment from Pike seemed to engender a similar response, and thank heavens the admiral seeme to pick up on it because he settled into his chair without further comment beyond a soft, “This looks great, Jim. Thanks.”

The salmon was good. Very, very good, and there was lemon on the green beans. Leonard had forgotten what real home cooking could be like. Replicators, resequencers, mess halls… everything had an air of standardization about them. The subtle balance of flavors in Jim’s food clearly had a real person behind it; from the look on Pike’s face as he took a bite, the older man was sensing that as well. 

Leonard hid a smile as he applied himself to the meal, realizing that nothing he’d eaten in the hospital had tasted quite right. Now though… he was defeated before he could finish the plate, but not for a lack of wanting to eat. Sensing that Jim had been watching every bite, he slumped back in the chair with an appreciative grunt and offered, “Phil probably expects it to take a few days for my appetite to come back, but he wasn’t counting on you breaking out the good stuff.”

Jim nodded and seemed to relax, turning his attention to his own meal. 

The younger man was oblivious to the fact that Pike was watching closely, until the older man set down his fork and said, “You know, I seem to remember you trailing sand across the central quad and scandalizing the Qualkhux ambassador with what little you’d had under your wetsuit a few years ago.” Jim’s ears pinked and he grumbled something about how his clothes had been stolen off the beach as a prank. Pike ignored the protest in favor of continuing, “The weather was looking great when I went for a walk earlier, and the tide should be right about now. I have some,” his voice faltered and he cleared his throat before pressing on, “really nice surfboards in the garage. Look in the dresser in the guest room— my old XO picked up a bunch of beach stuff for our whole command team when they all had leave one summer after I was posted back here. You’re probably close enough to the same size as one of them for a pair of board shorts to fit. There’s a few different wetsuits in the garage as well.”

“I promised Boyce I’d be around—”

“The suits have a built-in em-comm in the wrist. I had them all keyed to ‘fleet frequencies.” Sensing that Jim was on the verge of taking him up on the offer, Pike persisted, “You can take any board you’d like.” Leonard didn’t know all that much, but he had a sense that surfboards might be something of a personal thing. It was confirmed by the look on the older man’s face as he continued, “I can’t— sometimes I go for a paddle, but it’ll be a while until I can do that again. My arms just aren’t up for it yet.” He couldn’t quite seem to say that he hadn’t been able to actually surf since the Narada.

Jim vacillated, glancing from Leonard to Pike and back again.

“Get some sun, Jim.” Pike smiled even as he asserted, “You look positively pasty.” 

When the younger man nodded, Leonard suppressed a snort that, of course, it was _vanity_ that had Jim capitulate. Although… perhaps Pike had a point: when Jim disappeared after lunch and then reappeared with a pair of navy-blue board shorts slung almost criminally low on his hips, the expanse of revealed skin was downright milky. His muscles were also less defined than they had been before Khan. Not so much that most people would notice, but Leonard had spent enough time prodding that body to know. 

As Pike led the younger man out to the garage, Leonard couldn’t help but wonder if perhaps the admiral was also looking out for the fitness quals Jim would have to take before resuming command of the Enterprise.

Wandering back into the front room, Leonard paused in front of a large shelf of real books. It was an expensive but eclectic collection: some classic novels, old Earth anthropology and sociology, astronomy, memoirs of military strategists and politicians of the twentieth and twenty-first centuries, and even a few children’s books at the bottom. A thick, leather-bound book with an embossed gold title caught his eye.

_USS Kelvin: Strategy, Leadership and Pyrrhic Victory in a No-win Scenario_  
_Christopher Richard Pike_

Leonard tugged it off the shelf, flipping it open at random and finding what appeared to be a detailed timeline. The next page was well-written. Pike’s voice clear and compelling as he described how events unfolded on the Starfleet vessel. Lost in the text, Leonard didn’t hear another person enter the room until a voice made him start.

“Oh, Hell. You’re not an M.D. Ph.D, are you?” The older man’s tone was rueful and teasing at once.

It made Leonard glance up from the tome and admit, “No. Wasn’t quite that much of a masochist.”

“Then you don’t know the first rule about dissertations: never read the damn thing after you pass your defense. You’ll only find errors.” Leonard started to put the book back, but Pike waved him off, “No, no, you go ahead. Just don’t tell me if you find a split infinitive.” He set a glass of water on the coffee table. “The cam on the beach is showing perfect conditions— Jim’ll probably be a while. My office is just through there. I’ve got some reports to review, but don’t worry about interrupting if you need anything. I’ll look in from time to time.”

“Thanks, Chris.”

He settled on the couch again, reading for a while before taking a nap, then reading some more. A few times he was dimly aware of the older man quietly hovering in the doorway for a moment, but otherwise Leonard was generally alone until another voice made him start, “Is that Chris’ thesis?”

_Jim_. Hovering over the couch in what looked like borrowed sweatpants, hair already gaining a glint of highlights from the sun.

Feeling like he’d somehow been caught snooping, Leonard blushed as he glanced up and admitted, “Yeah. I spotted it on the bookshelf. I guess he had it printed out on paper to celebrate his doctorate.” There was a complex mixture of emotion on the younger man’s face that Leonard couldn’t quite read.

“It’s, uh, good.” Jim sat down on the couch, close enough that their shoulders brushed as he leaned over to look at the figure of the Kelvin’s engineering systems that dominated the current page. “The red alert triggered recording of all internal and ship-to-shuttle comms; in the electronic version he has them linked to the timeline so you can listen to everything that was happening.”

The slight emphasis on _everything_ made something twist in Leonard’s stomach. He hadn’t realized that kind of thing was publicly available. Hell, he wondered how old Jim had been when he’d first heard the recordings.

Leonard looked up from the book, noting the faintest start of a sunburn across Jim’s nose and cheeks. The kid must have rubbed off some of the sunblocker while going in and out of the water. “Good day out there?”

Tension bled out of Jim’s frame and the younger man relaxed against Leonard’s side as he reported, “It was great out there. Not even too crowded.” He bumped his shoulder against Leonard’s with a smile as he asserted, “You’ll have to come when you’re feeling better.”

Leonard snorted in surprise, “Me? Surfing? Are you out of your corn-fed mind?”

“I’ve seen you, Bones. You’re totally built for it. Not to mention coordinated.”

The thing was, Leonard _had_ tried surfing: first on his honeymoon in Hawaii about a million years ago, and then on a post-divorce getaway in New Zealand that stretched from the intended two weeks to two months. He was rusty, but pretty sure he could surprise Jim once he was well enough to get on a board. Trying not to tip his hand, he made sure to grumble something suitably skeptical.

“I’ll teach you, Bones. Don’t worry.”

Leonard had to mask his smile with a cough.

“You okay? Do you need some water—”

“I’m fine, Jim.” He waved a hand at the table, “Pike made sure I had some.”

“Good,” Jim’s gaze seemed to be skittering around the room, “That’s good.”

Leonard closed the book and set it on the table. “I think that’s enough Starfleet jargon for one day. How about a film?”

The younger man visibly brightened, “Yeah,” he shifted to sit more comfortably on the couch. “Yeah, that’d be great. What do you feel like? There’s that drama with the actress you think looks like Chapel.”

It was in the system too— he’d spotted it earlier. Cuing up the film, Leonard started to twist to find a comfortable position, only for Jim to help him shift to curl on his side, feet against the length of Jim’s thigh. The film was better than expected; half an hour in, he shifted to find a more comfortable position and Jim gently placed his hand on Leonard’s ankle. The touch felt good; like an anchor.

He drifted off at some point, because he woke up at a soft, “Bones?” to find the film over and _something smelled delicious_.

“Jim?” His mouth was dry and the light in the room was noticeably different than before. “What time is it?”

“Dinnertime. Want to eat in here or at the table?”

“Table.” Leonard levered himself to sit up and tried to ignore how the world greyed out for a moment. He needed the _normal_ that came with sitting at the table. Pointedly not commenting on how Jim hovered at his elbow all the way to the dining area, they found Pike already in his chair.

And the table… Leonard’s stomach gave a rumble of anticipation at the sight of a lasagna steaming on a trivet. Hell, he must have been asleep for hours. Jim had once mentioned his lasagna was an old Kirk recipe, and not to be rushed.

Jim served. Pike waited until they all had full plates before taking a bite and giving an involuntary moan. Swallowing, despite the fact that it must have been hot, he said, “This is wonderful, Jim.”

The younger man gave a pleased smile, tucking into his own plate and Leonard, with a cursory grunt that was meant to be appreciative, did the same. A few bites later, he glanced up to find Pike watching him instead of eating. Swallowing, Leonard met his gaze and raised an eyebrow.

“McCoy, just how _did_ you wind up married?

In his peripheral vision, Leonard could sense Jim stilling completely; it wasn’t a story he’d ever shared before. The moment had never seemed quite right— now, he had no idea what had prompted the question, but there was no real reason not to answer. “We met at Ole Miss; I was already pre-med, but somehow I found time for dating. Jocelyn was from Atlanta, wanted to be a lawyer; didn’t really take no for an answer, I guess. Not for her career; not for anything. She proposed on that whole ‘leap day’ thing so I said yes— I think she must have seen it on a holo.”

Jim choked, face turning red and struggling for breath for a moment before ejecting a piece of pasta onto his plate. Leonard straightened in his seat, ready for action until Jim waved him away.

The younger man went for his glass of water, gulping until he set it down and gasped, voice hoarse, “She proposed to you?”

“Yeah.”

“And you just,” Jim waved a hand in the air between them, “Went along with it? When have you ever gone along with anything?”

“We were young and dumb; dating for two years seemed like _forever_.” 

Simple though the story was, something seemed to be eluding Jim, because he still had a frown on his face as he re-phrased it again, “So she asked and you said yes?”

Leonard shrugged, “Basically.”

“Huh.” The word came out high and thin; almost an exhalation of breath rather than a word

There was something in Jim’s tone that was… surprising, for lack of a better word. Leonard didn’t quite know what to make of it. Pike seemed to be watching in that quietly perceptive manner that he had, which only made the moment feel all the more strange.

Unsure what he was up against, Leonard figured the best defense was a good offense. Narrowing his eyes, he said, “What, you about to get old-fashioned on me with stereotypes, Jim?” The _you of all people _plain as day.__

__The strange mood was broken, as Jim’s eyes widened and he raised his hands theatrically in supplication, prompting a snort from Pike that turned into a laugh when Jim threw in a protruding lower lip for good measure._ _

__Leonard rolled his eyes, chuckling as well and then turning his attention back to his dinner. The meal continued with less personal topics of conversation: mostly the nearby beaches and walking paths they could explore the following day. The camaraderie seemed to come easily, as if they’d truly left ranks outside for the first time. Pleasant though it was, Leonard found himself exhausted again before he could even quite clean his plate._ _

__Chris and Jim were absorbed in conversation, so he just took a sip of water and regarded his cutlery. Getting up seemed like too much effort; not to mention finding the guest bedroom and getting changed and—_ _

__“Bones?” Jim was watching him from across the table, fork hanging in mid air. “You ready to pack it in?”_ _

__Numbly, he nodded._ _

__Fortunately, Jim seemed to understand because his eyes softened and he pushed his own chair back before quickly coming around the table and encouraging Leonard to stand. “Let’s get you to bed. This way.”_ _

__Leonard didn’t really pay attention— just trusted Jim to lead and soon enough he was lowered onto a soft bed. He tried to slur out something suitably appreciative, but didn’t think he quite managed._ _


	3. Chapter 3

It was raining. Leonard has spent enough time in San Francisco to be able to sense inclement weather without opening his eyes. When he did eventually succumb to the fact that it was, in fact, morning, and likely time to get up, the rain was beating a noticeable tattoo against the windows.

It was gray: the view of the Pacific closed in to a hazy horizon and low-hanging clouds. A total opposite of the day before. Rolling over and peering at the chrono confirmed he’d overslept: it was almost ten o’clock. He was also wearing pajama bottoms he didn’t recognize, and a flight squadron t-shirt that wasn’t Jim’s. Some house guest he was. 

Groaning internally, Leonard was relieved to realize the room was an en suite and someone had put an overnight bag of his things by the bed. Dressing brought at least some sense of normalcy, which only sort of evaporated when he made his way downstairs to the common areas of the house to find Jim and Pike sprawled out in casual clothes in the living room, nursing cups of coffee as they watched a news holo. The ticker was saying something about clean-up efforts in San Francisco, but the Betazoid anchor was discussing a trade dispute between Andoria and some other planet.

“Hey, Bones.” Jim glanced up with a smile that was just slightly pinched around the edges. “Coffee’s in the kitchen and there’s some fresh fruit for you too.”

Pike raised his mug in a good morning-kind of gesture, so Leonard returned the greeting then wandered into the kitchen only to be confronted by Philip Boyce leaning against the counter and sipping from a mug of his own.

“Leonard, good morning.”

Surprised, but not unpleasantly so, Leonard resigned himself to at least a short wait before his coffee. “Morning, Phil. Not at the hospital today?”

“Stopped by for a house call: thought I may as well do yours too.” He pulled a scanner out of a med bag on the counter and motioned for Leonard to have a seat. “Chris’ check-up looked good. We’re still working on his lung function, but so long as there are no setbacks I think I’ll be able to start upping him from the present level of reduced duty.” The scanner beeped and Boyce consulted the results for a moment, before angling it so Leonard could read the display as well as he reported, “The telemetry from your bracelet has looked fine so far, but don’t push it. Very light exercise only or you could have a setback. Even walking will leave you feeling wiped out for a while.”

Leonard nodded, caught by the visceral wave of relief that accompanied knowing everything looked all right.

Boyce clapped him on the shoulder. “Have some breakfast. I’ve got to run, but I’ll stop by again tomorrow night.”

Alone, Leonard fixed himself a breakfast of fruit, wholegrain toast, and coffee, watching the seascape for a while as he ate. Seabirds were being blown backwards by the gusting wind, veering and flapping as they tried to stay on course. It made him crack a smile, despite the fact that he almost identified with the sensation of being buffeted by something beyond one’s control. 

Finishing his meal, he poured a second cup of coffee and wandered back into the front room. The news had shifted to Earth politics, but Pike and Jim seemed to be watching just as avidly. 

Jim shifted over on the couch so Leonard took that as an invitation to sit down. The broadcast didn’t quite capture his interest, but he supposed the other men had to be up to speed on anything that could have diplomatic implications. When the report eventually wrapped up and a fluffy human interest piece about a breeding pair of sehlat replaced it, Pike switched the channel to something that seemed to be promising highlights from a surfing competition in Tahiti. 

Jim perked up, even as he rummaged in a drawer in the end table and retrieved a cribbage board and a pack of cards.

When Leonard raised an inquiring eyebrow, it was Pike who confessed, “Some of those academic advising meetings may have been more crib than business.”

“Come on, Bones. I know you can play.”

It was true. They’d never played together, but he’d mentioned playing with his grandfather back in Georgia. Shifting on the couch to be closer to the coffee table was taken as acquiescence; Pike opened the pack of cards and began shuffling and in no time they were playing.

Two games later Jim excused himself, but Leonard and Pike kept going. He’d missed this in some ways: adult companionship, for lack of a better word. Sure, there was Spock, but while the tension between them was mostly gone, and Leonard might even call him a friend, of sorts, it wasn’t the same as another human. Nyota was perceptive and Sulu was great, albeit the few years between them were sometimes noticeable. Scotty, well, his maturity level seemed to oscillate as frequently as the nacelles.

Chatting with Pike, _Chris_ , he corrected himself: it was nice. Different.

An hour later Leonard popped into the kitchen for a glass of water and found Jim with four cutting boards covered in various chopped vegetables. An offer of help was waved away, so he returned to the front room where Chris was resetting the board.

“Lord,” Leonard dropped into his seat with a huff, “He’s stress cooking again in there.”

“He’s expressing concern.”

“By cooking?”

Chris shifted to look at Leonard directly, raising an eyebrow of disbelief, “And here I was under the impression you’d been married.”

Leonard frowned. What did cooking have to do with it? “Jocelyn hated cooking. Made us buy a top of the line resequencer we could barely afford.”

“Trust me, McCoy, he’s got it _bad_.”

“Got what bad?”

Chris shook his head, and instead of answering said, “He’s matured, you know.”

It was an odd comment from the older man, with that _you know_ tacked on to the end; as if Chris thought he was telling Leonard something the doctor needed to hear. Confused, Leonard picked up the cards and began to deal without replying.

More softly, Chris added, “Nearly losing people he cares about.” The silence stretched until they had all their cards. With an unbelievable degree of nonchalance, so far as Leonard was concerned, the older man continued, “You know: the first time I nearly died I was Jim’s age.” He continued without a sideways glance; rightly assuming Leonard was listening. “I’d made full commander and was just promoted to first officer on the Aldrin.” Shuffling his cards around in his hand, he seemed to consider for a moment before settling on being blunt, “I was a cocky first officer—leading a landing party in a first contact as if I was damned invincible. And I was, right up until the high priestess, who had some pretty paranoid ideas about the Federation, slipped a ceremonial dagger between my sixth and seventh ribs. I was lucky that she was otherwise misinformed about human anatomy. 

“I remember my face pressed into a dusty dirt road, my security lieutenant sounding far too panicked as he commed the ship, and realizing I was probably going to die.”

Voice suddenly hoarse, Leonard asked, “What happened?”

“I contemplated my own mortality as a downright terrifying pool of blood spread on the road, then when it all got a bit cold and dark they managed to get a lock on me and I have a vivid memory of Phil looking positively furious in the transporter bay, then not much until I woke up in medical a day later.

“For the first time, he didn’t read me the riot act; and he’d been plenty vocal before when I’d concussed myself surfing or cracked a vertebrae playing parrises squares or drank the ceremonial beer on Caldera Prime that got them to join the Federation but left me with liver failure. I remember he just sat beside the bed, tight lipped. I didn’t have a fucking clue what to say. Then he said my name, just _Christopher_ , and I realized I’d been a damned fool.

“We’ll always put ourselves on the line. We’re Starfleet officers: we believe in service, sacrifice, compassion, and love. Sometimes, we get a little lost in it all; when even the wondrous starts to become a little… episodic. We’ve all had a close call, Leonard, it’s what we do now that matters.”

Leonard nodded, a little overwhelmed.

“Seize the time, Len.” Chris’ eyes were blue and earnest and made something clench deep in Leonard’s chest. “Live now. Make now always the most precious time.” A clatter in the kitchen and a muffled curse made the corner of the older man’s mouth curl up in a smile as he softly added, “Now will never come again.” On that note, he discarded two cards and waited for Leonard to do the same.

They played for a while, settling back into the rhythm of the game until Chris said, a propos of nothing, “They’re going to offer him the five-year mission.”

Leonard felt his jaw drop, because that had been Jim’s singular focus ever since the deep-space mission had first been mooted around HQ, more a rumor than anything else.

“Does he know?”

Chris smiled, fondly, and shook his head. “It’s not confirmed, yet, but I know Rich and Heihachiro and they’ve decided. Chandra’s on board as well. The admiralty just has to convene to approve it and then we’ll tell Jim.”

“Why’re you telling me?”

“Motivation,” was the cryptic remark. Leonard didn’t know what to make of how there was sympathy and something else mingling in the older man’s expression.


	4. Chapter 4

The rest of the second day passed the same as the first: Jim cooking an elaborate lunch, then repeating the feat again for dinner. Leonard napped most of the day away, but managing a short walk outside, bundled up in a borrowed coat against the drizzle. Jim hovered at his elbow the whole way even though it was just a short trip part way out the headland and back. Standing side-by-side with the younger man, rain prickling his forehead, Leonard felt the surge to say _something_ , but what, he wasn’t sure. They walked back together, Jim occasionally pointing out a bird or something he’d seen the day before. It was easy, spending time with Jim. Leonard went to bed early, leaving Chris and Jim nursing whisky in the living room.

Sunshine flooded the guest bedroom the next morning. Dressing and sauntering into the main part of the house, he was confronted by the smell of melted cheese and onion and herbs… Leonard sniffed, appreciatively, and Jim popped his head out of the kitchen, a wide smile alighting on his face as he said, “Bones!”

Something beeped in the kitchen and Jim vanished around the corner again, calling back, “Frittata will be ready in five!”

Lord, at this rate he was going to gain a kilo before he could start exercising properly again. Wandering into the front room he found Chris reading something on a padd and sipping a large cup of coffee. Something about the other man’s eyes made him ask, “Late night?”

Chris lowered the padd and smiled as he admitted, “We got chatting. You sleep well?”

“Oh, yeah.” Leonard’s accent had a pronounced drawl to it, even to his own ears. Earth always seemed to bring it back. “The walk wiped me out a bit, but I think it was the fresh air in general.” The sunshine streaming into the room was too nice to not mention, so he added, “Looks like the weather’s a lot better.”

“I checked the report; it looks so good I told Jim we could fend for ourselves for lunch and he can go surfing.” Pike dropped the padd further, adding, “Of course, that seemed to just spur him to cook a massive brunch. At this rate, we’re not going to need lunch at all.”

Leonard laughed, but secretly couldn’t complain because, damn, it smelled delicious in there. They chatted for a few more minutes before Jim called that it was time to eat. Tucking in, Leonard revised his estimate: he was going to gain two kilos before he’d be able to start exercising again. As had become a pattern, Jim kicked them back into the living room while he dealt with the dishes, refusing all offers of help. 

Chris went back to reading reports of some sort while Leonard sprawled on the couch and idly flicked through the channels on the holoscreen. Predictably, nothing on the live channels looked any good. Cueing up a video from the databanks he settled in for a true crime forensic analysis program— the episode overview promised a very stealthy attempted murder. Leonard always liked a good poisoning.

Three-quarters of an hour later Jim poked his head into the living room to confirm that they were _definitely_ okay with him going surfing for a few hours. They chased him out, good naturedly, and Leonard felt a little curl of happiness in his stomach at how Jim was barely suppressing excitement at the thought of a day on the water. Lordy, how the younger man deserved it.

An hour later and the episode wrapped up with the narrator extolling the dangers of Risan Avudi bark powder. A psychologist would probably have a world of speculation about why these low budget programs left him feeling so satisfied; Hell, Leonard himself had a few ideas he tended not to dwell on. Stretching, he glanced over to find Chris watching him closely, as if he’d been waiting for the program to end. 

The older man looked down at his padd, then back up as he said, “Leonard,” Chris had a strange look on his face, as if sucking up his courage and tamping down embarrassment for a moment, before he continued in a rush, “There’s things a man will and will _not_ tolerate in his guest room—”

What? He’d slept alone, and literally just slept. “I haven’t—” _been doing anything_ died on Leonard’s lips when the admiral cut him off with—

“Exactly.” 

Chris gave him a look that was clearly supposed to be pointed, but all Leonard could offer was an utterly confused, “What?”

“Oh for the—” Chris seemed to square his shoulders into an almost military bearing before he blurted out, “Jim has been head-over-heels for you for years now, even if he didn’t realize it himself at first, and I’d like to think you wouldn’t try to raise just anyone from the dead.”

Mouth dry, a rushing sound in his ears, Leonard only managed a strangled “Whuh.”

“You know that stuff therapists say about not making major moves in the aftermath of a near death experience?” A faint expression that might have been a dry humor flitted across his face. “It’s bullshit. And I think I’ve earned the right to say that.”

Despite himself, Leonard huffed a laugh in response even though he felt distinctly lightheaded.

“Look‚ I may have been out of it for a while there too, but I got the sense there was a lot left unsaid after the whole resurrection thing.”

“We’ve talked—” Leonard winced at the defensive note in his voice, “A little. When I was in the hospital.” Chris just looked at him inquisitively and the elaboration followed, “He thanked me, for saving his life, and apologized that he hadn’t properly before.”

“And then?”

“I told Jim I appreciated him saying that. And I did; was even a little surprised by how much it meant to finally hear it.” Chris’ look seemed to continue to imply _and then_ so Leonard continued, “And then I went back to sleep.”

It wasn’t quite a wince that crossed Chris’ features, but it was close. “And you haven’t…” Leonard’s face must have been clear enough, because he changed questions, “Do you want to set off on five years in deep space with things the same as they were before?”

Leonard’s gaze dropped to his hands before he admitted, softly, “Not really.”

The silence stretched, until Chris said, “You know what else I have in the garage? A sunshade and blanket; I’ll bet Jim will be pretty hungry by mid-afternoon. There’s a transponder on the board and you can comm him from the beach.”

“I don’t think I can walk all the way down there yet.” Much less back up the hill after.

“What’s the point of being an admiral if you can’t misuse the site-to-site transport system every now and then?” When Leonard’s eyebrow gave an involuntary jerk of surprise, Chris added, “You get changed and I’ll put together a cooler for you. Just see what else is in those drawers of beach clothes.”

It was a crazy plan. A crazy, impractical, over-the-top, command-track, kind of plan. 

Which meant it just might work. 

Leonard dutifully shuffled off to examine his wardrobe options.

********************

Rematerializing was something Leonard had grudgingly grown to tolerate, but never enjoyed as a means of travel despite the convenience. It always felt like it was doing something unnatural to one’s insides. 

Despite the perfect weather the beach was only sparsely populated. Chris had dropped him right in the middle as well. Safely above the tideline where the sand was powdery and dry. It only took a minute to spread out a thick blanket and open the sun canopy. Settling with his face in the shade and feet warmed by the sun, it didn’t take long to spot Jim out on the waves. The younger man moved with an easy grace, keeping a careful distance from the other surfers as he caught wave after wave.

An hour later the waves were getting mushy as the tide changed. One by one the other surfers abandoned the beach until even Jim was forced to wrap it up— catching one last ride all the way to the shore. Leonard wondered if he’d have to use the comm, but as Jim finished removing his leash the younger man glanced up and stilled, before picking up the board and walking unerringly up the shore.

“Hey Bones.”

It was hard to read the look on Jim’s face when the younger man was so backlit, but from the soft tone of voice Leonard pictured something fond, with a slight curl to his lips.

Jim shook his head, sending a scattering of droplets cascading towards the blanket. He grinned, unapologetic, then set down the board and started wriggling for the fastener of his wetsuit. 

Leonard just watched as the wriggle became a full-body squirm as Jim shucked the upper half of the suit, then peeled off the lower half as well to reveal a form-fitting pair of boardshorts. 

Accepting a proffered towel with a grin, the younger man scrubbed his hair and patted down his body before loosely looping it around his waist. Indicating a duffel bag that seemed to be the source of the towel, Jim raised an eyebrow, “Don’t suppose you brought…”

Leonard rolled his eyes, because _of course_ he’d predicted this.

Jim flashed a relieved grin when the dry shorts and t-shirt hit him in the chest. He furtively glanced around the beach before gripping the towel more tightly around his waist and stepping out of sight around the sun shade. 

Two bottles of Bud Classic were waiting on the blanket when Jim popped back into sight. “ _Bones_ ,” he dropped onto the blanket with a delighted sigh, taking a quick gulp of the beer and admitting, “You have no _idea_ how much I needed this.”

_This_ was vague. Whether it was the day off, the sunshine, the independence after this convalescence, or simply the beer. Another gulp and Jim’s hand crept across the blanket to give Leonard’s knee a quick squeeze. “Thank you.”

Smiling internally, even as something squirmed in his stomach, Leonard replied, “Thank Pike too. He packed lunch for us, but I don’t know what…” Opening the stasis unit caused his stomach to grumble in interest at the smell.

“Is that—” Jim craned his neck to look, similarly enticed.

“Chocolate chip cookies, sandwiches and,” Leonard’s eyes widened, “Risan cloudberries.”

“Gimme!”

“What are you, four?” Leonard tossed a berry anyway.

Jim crammed it into his mouth and an expression of bliss transformed his face before he mumbled around a mouthful of pulp, “You always called me an infant anyway.”

Leonard helped himself to a berry, eyes fluttering closed for a moment at the explosion of flavor. He could eat those every day for the rest of his life and it wouldn’t get old. Swallowing, he selected a cookie and took a bite— the normally flavorful cookie initially almost dull after the fruit. He glanced over to find Jim staring. 

“You look good, Bones.”

Leonard snorted, because to his own eyes he still looked distinctly unwell.

“No, I mean—” Jim set down his beer and hitched closer as we waved a hand, “Relaxed. The casual clothes. I guess it seems like we’re always on duty on the Enterprise. I’d… forgotten.”

It was perhaps the most awkward compliment Leonard had ever received, but he took the sentiment in good humor and replied, “I guess we’ll just have to make time for civvies more often.” 

The comment was lighthearted, but Jim seemed to take it seriously. The little wrinkles that were taking up residence at the corners of his eyes fanned out as he smiled and softly said, “I’d like that.”

Even with the conversation he’d had with Pike earlier, Leonard felt himself shying away from the issue. Digging into the cooler, he said, “You want the BLT or salami?”

Jim gave him an unreadable look that was almost— disappointed? A second, and then the younger man seemed to shake it off and held out a hand, “Salami. Chris has some seriously fancy mustard.”

Leonard handed over a sandwich, keeping the BLT for himself. They ate in silence for a while, and damn, it was delicious. Brushing crumbs off his t-shirt, he asked the question that had been on his mind, “When did you learn to cook?”

Gaze on the Pacific, it was a moment before Jim answered, “My Grandpa Tiberius taught me— the summer I was eleven. Before everything went to shit with Frank and Sam ran away for good.” Jim’s voice was small, with a slight rasp to it. It was a tone Leonard had only heard during late nights in early January.

“Shit, Jim. I’m s—” the mumbled apology died on his lips when Jim just kept looking at the ocean. Actions always worked better than words between them. Leonard lifted the cooler out of the way and hitched sideways until they were hip to hip. 

Jim’s skin was still chilled from evaporation where the sun didn’t reach him, so Leonard tentatively extended an arm around the younger man’s shoulders. They’d sat in this position before: drunk, sick, injured, exhausted, but never just _being_. With a long exhale, Jim relaxed. 

It felt good; the warm bulk of him curling into Leonard’s side. 

Jim shifted and his arm came up to wrap around Leonard’s back and it felt _really_ good.

Unsure what to say, Leonard closed his eyes for a moment so he could just feel.


	5. Chapter 5

Seagulls— calling somewhere in the distance. Leonard opened his eyes to find the entire shelter bathed in light from the now-setting sun. He was wrapped in warmth, held tightly against another body. 

Jim.

A hand rubbed over Leonard’s shoulder and down his arm, before moving back to embrace him. Leonard realized they’d shifted to lying down; from the angle, Jim was propped up on the duffel bag and Leonard’s face was on the younger man’s chest. Slurring slightly, he asked “I fell asleep? How late is it?”

Jim’s voice rumbled under Leonard’s cheek as he replied, “Didn’t want to move.” 

A nudge and a roll and Leonard was gently shuffled upwards until they were practically nose to nose. Those blue eyes— he could forget himself in them. A warm hand came up and gently cupped the side of Leonard’s face.

Jim tasted like chocolate chips. Of all the things that could have occurred to Leonard in that moment, it was as if some part of him was still shying away.

Jim tasted like chocolate chips, and he kissed like he _meant_ it. Something in Leonard just… gave in. Relaxing into the body underneath, deepening the kiss as he made a small noise in the back of his throat.

Sensing the change, Jim slid his hand down and around to hold Leonard loosely against him, hardly pausing for breath before kissing the older man again.

It was overwhelming, but it just felt right. 

A cool breeze coming off the ocean made Leonard shiver, even though he wasn’t really cold. Jim sensed it, pulling back with a line of worry between his eyebrows.

Leonard mourned the loss of contact almost immediately, chasing Jim’s lips and trying to soothe the concern at the same time.

Jim allowed several more kisses before gently disengaging again so he could sweep his gaze over Leonard’s face. “Bones?”

An unexpected surge of emotion left him choked. Craving contact, Leonard gripped Jim and _clung_ , jamming his face into the crook of the younger man’s neck. Close. Safe, even if he could feel his face flaming in embarrassment.

Jim gave a little _oof_ of surprise at the sudden weight before gripping Leonard even more tightly, murmuring something indistinct into dark hair. It seemed to take a while to catch his breath, but when he did the ridiculousness of it all struck him.

Forcing himself to grow a spine, Leonard took a breath and pulled back and up to meet Jim’s eyes. “You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back.” Jim looked slightly nervous, but never backed down from a good squabble.

“I did, didn’t I?” A moment, then Leonard smiled and admitted, “It was nice.”

“Just nice?” And _there_ was the smile that he’d never get tired of seeing.

This banter was familiar. Leonard rolled his eyes, affectionately and softly affirmed, “Better than nice,” before leaning down for another kiss. It was great. Fantastic.

“Are you sure, Bones?”

“Am _I_ sure?” Leonard’s eyebrow leapt in disbelief, “Jim, you’re the one who—” Protestations that if anyone was settling it was Jim died on his lips and he settled for the truth, “I’m sure, Jim. I’ve been sure for a while.” He pressed a quick kiss to Jim’s lips and affirmed, “I’ve never been more sure before.” Not even when he’d got married, heavens help him.

Jim stretched up for one more kiss, beaming.

The sun was setting in earnest and the breeze carried a real chill. Jim gently rolled Leonard off him to one side as he asked, “How did you get down here?”

“Chris set up a site-to-site beam back to the garage. We just have to get things packed up and then call it in.”

Jim impulsively gave Leonard a quick peck on the temple, just because he could, then set about packing up.

The beam worked as advertised. Jim quickly set the surfboard on a rack in the garage and hung the wetsuit to dry. He turned to find Leonard loitering awkwardly by the door.

“You okay?” Another thought occurred to Jim, “Do you not want to—”

“No!” Leonard took a step forward and repeated more softly, “No, I don’t want to hide this. I’d just… rather face it together.”

********************

Pike and Boyce were in the kitchen, music playing in the background as they made dinner.

“Jim,” Boyce looked up from where he was tossing a salad and smiled, “Looks like the fresh air did you good.”

Chris took a pot off the stove, waving them towards the dining table as he asked, “How were the waves?”

“Great.” Jim accepted a plate of pasta, “Thanks for sending Bones with lunch. It was just what we needed.”

If Chris suspected the younger man was referring to more than just food, he held his tongue and changed the topic of conversation. 

Dinner was pleasant— if the food was not as elaborate as Jim’s recent meals, it was delicious nonetheless. Conversation came easily even though it was another day in a row at the same table. Leonard could get used to this, he decided. The easy camaraderie that felt more familial than anything he’d experienced in years. Eventually, they all finished and Jim excused himself, saying something about desperately needing a shower.

Boyce clapped a hand on Leonard’s shoulder and started to steer him towards the living room. “Let me look you over and see about starting pharmacological rehab.”

Being looked over turned into a prolonged poking and prodding before Boyce eventually snapped his scanner shut. “I’m going to give you a myoregenerator.” Leonard nodded his acquiescence, tilting his head to allow access for the hypo. “It could make you feel groggy— you might want to go to bed early with a vid just in case.”

The hiss of the injection came just as Jim rounded the corner from the staircase, hair still wet from his shower.

“Bones?”

“All good, Jim.” The younger man visibly relaxed and Leonard hurried to explain, “Just a muscle regen— but Phil says it’s bedtime.”

The ambiguity meant the invitation was there to be taken or ignored.

Jim smiled, eyes flashing in a way that said, yes, he knew exactly what they were doing. “Then I guess I’d better get into my pyjamas. Come on.”

Boyce’s gaze slipped from Leonard to Jim, then back again; professional mask firmly in place, he seemed to be paying careful attention to the clasps of his medkit as Leonard got up from the sofa.

As soon as they rounded the corner, Jim’s hand clapped over Leonard’s mouth and he pulled them both against the wall.

Leonard yanked the hand down, mouthing, “What are you, four?” But didn’t attempt to carry on towards the bedrooms.

Jim held a finger in front of his lips, motioning for quiet. Sure enough, a few moments later there were quick footsteps from the living room to the kitchen, and then an excited clatter followed by hushed voices.

Jim had to put his hand over his own mouth then, quickly dragging Leonard away before he burst out laughing. Safely in the guest bedroom, Jim leapt for the bed and smothered his face in a pillow. Rolling his eyes, Leonard headed for the en suite to shower and clean his teeth. 

Ten minutes later, he was forced to set down his toothbrush and admit that Phil had definitely been right about the early bedtime.

Pulling on a pair of loose pyjama trousers he regarded his reflection for a moment— while his critical eye caught the lines of stress and exhaustion on his face, Leonard was forced to admit he didn’t look bad without a shirt. The ‘fleet fitness quals kept him in shape, even with the last couple months. 

Opening the door, something leapt in his chest to find Jim already in bed despite the fact it was barely past eight o’clock. The younger man was propped up on pillows, watching something on a padd held loosely in one hand. 

Jim glanced up, stilling when he caught sight of Leonard in the doorway and eyes widening slightly with emotion. They locked gazes and Jim visibly flushed.

Swallowing down Jim’s earlier question, _Are you sure?_ Leonard pulled back the covers and crawled into the empty side of the bed, sighing when the side of his face touched the cool pillows.

Pausing whatever was on the padd, Jim softly asked, “Okay?”

“Exhausted.” The word came out slightly muffled, so he angled his face more towards Jim and added, “Going to crash and sleep until morning. Best thing for me.” 

Before he could second-guess himself, Leonard hitched sideways so his head was pillowed on Jim’s shoulder, one arm slung around the younger man’s belly. A moment, and then Jim shifted so his foot was tangled with Leonard’s, pressing them together across the whole length of their bodies.

“Sleep well, Bones.”

For the first time in two months, he did.


	6. Epilogue

“Feeling good?”

Brushing his hair back from his forehead and squinting slightly in the bright sunlight, Leonard confirmed. “Feeling good.”

“Okay, so just like I described: We can paddle out here and then over to the break. If anything big comes we duck under.” Shifting to grip his surfboard more firmly, Jim offered a reassuring smile. “It looks like the waves are picking up, so if it’s too much just say and we can try tomorrow.”

It was a bit of a lie, as they were supposed to be reviewing Enterprise’s launch readiness the following day and it would be hard to postpone, but Leonard just nodded and said, “After you.”

Jim led the way out through whitewater and smaller waves, then along until they neared the lineup. Watching how Leonard paddled, Jim raised an eyebrow and stated, “You’ve done this before.”

“Once or twice.” Leonard shrugged at Jim’s expression of surprise and added, “A long time ago.” Sensing Jim scrutinizing him closely, he quickly added, “Want to go first? Show me how it’s done?”

“Yeah,” snapping back to business, Jim focused on the task at hand. “Sure. Right— the best break tends to be there.” He pointed as a wave crested and Leonard nodded. “I’ll meet you after.” When Leonard nodded again, he paddled away and caught a wave, riding it smoothly.

Leonard got into position and waited, passing on one, two, three… _there_. Popping up felt as easy as breathing and the rush of elation that accompanied the ride was more intense than he’d expected. He ended it smoothly, unable to restrain a whoop of triumph. Sprawling back on his belly, chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, Leonard was forced to admit he should have done this again years ago.

Spotting Jim waiting a short distance away, he set off paddling.

When Leonard got close, Jim slipped into the water and sent his board skimming towards the older man, leash looped loosely on the deck. He surfaced and called out, “You’re way better at this than me.”

Laughter burst out of Leonard, unbridled and relaxed. He grabbed the nose of the board— a little custom number he suspected had been Chris’ pride and joy before the Narada. Swapping leashes he sent the larger board back towards Jim. They paddled back out and each caught another wave, then another… eventually, Leonard was forced to admit that PT and the gym wasn’t the same as the real thing. He motioned towards the shore and Jim quickly nodded, as if he’d been waiting for Leonard to call it quits.

Leonard’s arms were rubbery as he lifted the board out of the water, but it felt _good_. Really good. A sloshing preceded Jim slogging over to clap him on the back, beaming widely. They’d needed this, Leonard realized. Sunshine. A day off. The Enterprise was slated to relaunch in less than three weeks and they’d both been busy since returning to duty.

Side-by-side, then stumbled up through the swampy sand at the water’s edge. A familiar sunshade on the beach caught Leonard’s eye and he nudged Jim to ask, “Chris?”

Squinting into the sunlight, Jim smiled and replied, “Yeah, it looks like it. He didn’t mention coming, but it’s got to be.”

They made their way up the sand to find it was indeed Chris, lounging with a padd as he sunned himself. The older man waved them over when they got close and called, “Looking good out there. Leonard: how’d you find it?”

Whether it meant the surfing or the surf _board_ wasn’t clear, so Leonard tried to cover both with his response, “It was just what we needed— board handled like a dream. Custom?”

Chris nodded, pride overshadowing other emotions on his face as he replied, “Had it made on Oahu when I was first posted back here. I’m glad it’s getting some action.”

Jim’s wetsuit landed on his board with a soggy thud and the younger man grabbed one of the towels folded at the edge of the beach blanket as he asked, “Did you bring lunch?”

It was one hell of a presumptuous question, but the admiral smiled, fondly, and pulled over a stasis cooler. Shucking his own wetsuit, Leonard towelled himself off and accepted a beer before settling on the large blanket.

Mouth full of fried chicken, Jim gave an appreciative sigh before stretching out on his back and mumbling, “I’m going to miss this.”

Leonard snorted and raised an eyebrow, “Tanning?” He laughed, unapologetically, when Jim gave him a dirty look. Reaching over to pat the younger man’s knee affectionately as he softly assured, “I know.”

“The five year mission.” There was a wistful note in Chris’ voice that he couldn’t quite mask, “It’s going to be so much fun.”

Jim abruptly sat up again so he could make eye contact with his mentor, “Chris, I—” A forestalling hand made him stop before he could give form to the sentence.

“I’m glad it’s you, Jim.” Chris shrugged in a gesture that was probably meant to be reassuring, but had a bit too much emotion behind it as he continued, “Wouldn’t feel right with anyone else.”

The moment stretched until Leonard’s grumble broke the silence, “Alien despots hell-bent on killing us? Deadly spaceborne viruses and bacteria?” Sensing amusement from the other two men, Leonard increased his volume, “Incomprehensible cosmic anomalies that could wipe us out in an instant!”

“Easy, Bones,” Jim’s hand settled on his shoulder, “No more heart attacks.” A month ago they couldn’t have joked about it, but, now, tentatively, they’d broached the topic. If anything, it was probably part of putting it behind them.

Even Chris seemed to understand, shaking his head with a palpable fondness and taking a sip of his beer before commenting, “Leonard, I have it on good authority that it has been pointed out to you _multiple times_ that Starfleet operates in space.”

Leonard quirked an eyebrow, tone gentling as he replied, “And yet here I am.” Jim’s hand slipped down this arm until the younger man loosely tangled their fingers together, unselfconscious about the gesture even in front of Pike.

A moment, then Chris cleared his throat, “I saw the launch orders have come through— two diplomatic missions, then on to the frontier.”

Jim couldn’t stop excitement dancing in his eyes at the thought of it. “It’ll be a good shakedown, although almost all of my crew are returning from before and I know we work well together. The treaty in the Cygnus-five system should be straightforward, but the medical relief mission to Xertares will depend on whether they’re willing to accept aid.”

“I was out there once, with the Aldrin.” Chris seemed lost in memory, “I’d just made lieutenant and we got a distress call— Andorian viral hemorrhagic fever was in their penal system. It was a whistleblower who called and initially the planetary governor tried to say they didn’t need any help. It was only when the CMO made a dire projection of what would happen when it escaped their institutions and went through the population. You’ll have to play nice, but at some point they may need a shove rather than a nudge.”

“I’ll sic Bones on them—” Jim glanced sideways with a smile, “He can be very persuasive when he thinks someone’s being an idiot.”

“To be fair, I’m usually right.”

“Sure Bones,” Jim patted the other man’s knee, “Whatever you say.”

Chris snorted at the banter, expression softening to something more pleased, “You seem to be taking it all in stride. Have you told your senior staff?”

Jim’s cheeks pinked at the memory as he admitted, “Uhura is going to be _insufferably smug_ for the foreseeable future.” 

Leonard shrugged and added, “Spock took it well, I think.”

Jim mimed with his hands, “We got both eyebrows this high, but all he said was ‘congratulations’.”

“Scotty took it in stride, but he asked a lot of questions.”

Jim held his tongue. The truth of that reaction had only dawned on him after the fact: the engineer was probably running a pool of some sort, and needed details to work out the payout. From the look on his face, Chris was drawing a similar conclusion— fortunately, he didn’t mention it.

Glancing from Jim to Chris, Leonard offered, “I guess we kind of owe you a thank you.” He could only speak directly for the conversations the older man had initiated with him, but suspected the topic had been gently broached with Jim as well.

Chris’ expression flitted between fond and sly as he replied, “Five years is a long mission. I couldn’t let you set off with things unresolved— the sexual tension alone would have been palpable even back on Earth. I can’t imagine what it would have been like on the ship.” 

Jim let out a gust of breath— half a laugh and half relief as his cheeks pinked in embarrassment. 

Taking pity, Chris clapped the younger man on the back, “Seriously, though, I’m happy for you two. It’s a long mission and it will get hard— I’ll feel a lot better knowing you’re out there together.”

“It’s…” Jim glanced down at his hands, as if struggling to find the right words. “It means a lot— what you said. I guess I needed to get my head on straight.”

“Son, sometimes I wonder if I should have said that to you, at the Shipyard.” Chris exhaled sharply. “Comparing you to a ghost. I was _furious_ after that stunt you pulled on Nibiru, but it was the lying about it that was the real problem. I know you understand, Jim. And you sure as Hell don’t have anyone to prove wrong, so please look after yourself out there.” The silence stretched as his words settled between them. “Besides,” Chris quirked a half-smile, “it was Leonard I really worked on.”

“Bones?” Jim’s gaze slithered sideways, “but he didn’t exactly make the first move.”

“Shut your mouth,” Leonard’s voice had an embarrassed growl to it. “I brought you that picnic.”

“That Chris made for you.” Jim blinked in mock surprise, “And then you fell _asleep_.”

“I was still recovering!” Leonard thrust a hand out in front of him in protest. “I still scarcely believed my heart wasn’t going to change its mind and pack it in.”

“You drooled on me, did you know that?” Jim looked smug as he recounted, “After you fell asleep.”

“Great, mark that down. Leonard drooled on Jim: 1.” He struck a finger in the air, as if making a note, “Jim drooled on Leonard: about a mi—”

“Oooh, can we do vomit next? Remember that time with the Saurian brandy and...”

Chris watched with his mouth open slightly in astonishment, eventually holding up a forestalling hand. As the younger men both turned to look, he asked, “I take it the full details of _how we got together_ aren’t quite for public consumption?”

Leonard rubbed a hand over his face, then admitted, “We told the command crew that it was the aftermath of the close calls that did it; that you gave us a nudge while I was recovering.”

Jim shrugged, “It’s close enough, really.”

Fixing Leonard with a pointed look, because surely he’d coaxed the man into a little more initiative, Chris said, “From the sound of it that’s probably for the best.”

“And here I thought you wanted me to be honest.”

“With me and Leonard, yes. I’ll leave the rest to your judgment.” Chris’ comm chirped and he dropped the conversation to consult the device. “That was Phil: he’s offered to pick up take-out from that Italian place in Sausalito after work. You want to stay for dinner?”

Jim didn’t hesitate to speak for Leonard as well, “Sure. Can he pick up those truffle arancini?” Misinterpreting a sharp elbow to his ribs, he added, “Oh, and those calamari that Bones likes.”

Leonard rolled his eyes and broke in, “What he means to say is, ‘That’s a very kind offer; we’d love to join you’.” 

Chris just waved the remark away with a smile as he typed into his comm. The device _pinged_ a confirmation. “He says it’ll be ready for six and we should have the wine breathing.”

“So,” Jim’s gaze slid sideways to Leonard, then back to Chris as he continued, “Phil seems to be around a lot these days.”

Chris barked out a laugh as he slipped his comm back into his pocket “From time to time I’ve been known to take my own advice.” Sensing their pleasure at the admission, but not quite wanting to elaborate without Phil, he said, “Alright, let’s get all this gear hosed off and you can have a shower and borrow a change of clothes. There’s more beers back at the house.”

As they packed up in companionable silence, Jim was forced to admit that Earth felt more like home than it ever had before. Maybe, someday, they’d promote him planetside: Bones would run a division at Starfleet Medical and he’d teach at the academy and run short-haul diplomatic missions.

Maybe he’d retire with Bones to a house overlooking the ocean.

“Come on,” Chris tucked the sunshade under his arm and waved towards the parking area, “There are deckchairs with our names on them.”

Jim loved the stars, but that didn’t sound bad at all.


End file.
